Paperman
by Docnerd89
Summary: Prompt fill for anonymous prompt on the Castlefanficprompts page. Thanks, anon.


**Author's Note:** This story is based on the Disney Short Film by the same name. It's a prompt fill for an anonymous member who requested it on the castlefanficprompts tumblr page. I hope everyone enjoys it.

 **Disclaimer:** I own neither Castle, nor Disney; no copyright infringement is intended, no profit is made. Go watch the original Paperman short.

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 **Paperman**

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Grey clouds proliferated the skies of Manhattan, New York. The zephyr carried a petrichor scent even though it wasn't raining. There was an understated aura of melancholy permeating the city.

Considering it was a Friday afternoon where usually people begin to perk up, instead it was just a sorrowful day. There were still a few hours before office hours would be up, and so most people were still in their walled up cubicles, waiting for their chosen forms of imprisonment to come to a temporary close.

On a relatively empty – it was Manhattan after all – subway station platform, stood Richard Castle looking and feeling more forlorn than he had in a long time. He stood uncomfortably in his expensive Black Armani suit. Save for tugging at his tie and collar a couple of times, he was unusually still, clutching a leather folder and the stray letter he'd pulled out to his chest.

He wondered somewhat absently whether the weather was bleak or just his outlook of anything and everything. If anyone were to ask him then why he chose the subway, Rick would probably have answered with a lie. The truth was, he didn't really know. He didn't feel like driving. Didn't feel like anything.

A train he wasn't waiting for flew past him, not even slowing to stop at the station. His side parted hair dancing in delight before gently flopping over his forehead.

The piece of paper – probably rubbish – flew with the sudden gust of wind into his shoulder. It didn't even make him flinch. Didn't make him reach for it, instead sighing as it slid past its obstacle, across his chest and drifting gently to the dusty floor beyond.

Suddenly he blinked and startled when she ran past him, seemingly chasing after that piece of – probably not rubbish then – paper. She was a pretty girl. Tall and slender, she was dressed in a no nonsense suit underneath a stylish grey jacket that still flattered her frame. Rick guessed she was tall to begin with, but her heels lifted her even higher than the average person. He wondered whether it was simply for style or whether it was a conscious or unconscious bid for leverage.

She'd straightened up once she'd collected her escaped paper, clutching it tightly to herself. He hadn't missed the look of relief that flitted across her features when she had it safely in her possession. He also didn't miss the suspiciously amused glance she threw him, and couldn't help but wonder whether he'd imagined the glint of recognition in her eyes.

Staring was creepy, for those who weren't used to his quirks anyway, so he snapped his gaze forward. He couldn't help but feel the most bizarre sense of companionship standing just a few feet apart from this beautiful stranger, on the rather empty platform. A smile gradually bloomed on his face for the first time on this gloomy day.

He heard the tell tale rumbling of the tracks indicating that another train was about to come their way, this time in the opposite direction, towards her. It was the right direction, but a quick glance at his watch told him it wasn't the right time. The woman beside him turned towards it. He could feel the smile drop into disappointment, his head bending forward too, only to snap back up. The letter he was holding onto liberated itself from his grip and flew from him.

It didn't go very far, and before he could do anything about it, landed squarely on her face. He inattentively drew it away from her without looking at it, instead gaping a little stupidly at her, till a chuckle reluctantly bubbled up through her lips. It left him a little enamored and a little confused. She smiled bashfully, and shrugged, her eyes tripping over him.

Somewhat grudgingly he looked away from her and down himself, wondering if she'd spotted a stain, or if he'd worn one of his trickster ties accidentally. He wanted to know the source of her mirth, finally spotting it when he turned to look at the letter. There in the lower third of the mostly useless letter sat the impression of her lipstick stained lips, perfectly outlined, adding a burst of color to his otherwise dreary grey day.

He laughed softly, finally sharing in her joke, and looked up only to see her enter the train, thus ending their fortuitous encounter. Disappointment swept through him, and yet he found he could muster up a wistful smile when she looked back over her shoulder at him. The train took off, the sheet of paper billowing in the breeze as he raised his hand bidding her farewell.

With that, Rick was back to square one, wallowing in his lamentations. He was headed to the office building of Black Pawn – his publishers, to go over the legalities of his latest book. The letter, now unwittingly invaluable to him, was their formal invitation to him, informing him that the lawyers would be around if he needed any changes made, or issues clarified.

Gina, his editor and piranha of an ex-wife was none too happy with him about his decision to wrap up his most successful mystery-adventure series based on his best-selling character, Derrick Storm. Occasionally he would engage in provoking her, just for the sake of it, for entertainment. But truthfully, it wasn't easy for him. He was saying goodbye to his own creation, his friend.

The dour disposition followed him into the little boardroom they'd booked for him to go over the documentation. For being an author, ironically he wasn't at all fond of paperwork. Gina had given him an earful about reading through things responsibly, before she left him alone in peace.

He heaved a sigh even just thinking about the cumbersome task as he glanced at the stack of papers on the desk. Pulling one towards him, he surrendered to his fate, reading the endlessly boring legalese.

Not even midway through the paper, he yawned, scrubbing at his face, and turned wistfully towards the window. His heart nearly stopped, before accelerating abruptly like a freight train, waiting to explode right through his chest.

He stood so suddenly from his chair that it spun and smacked loudly into the expensive Mahogany table. Serendipity – that was the word gently knocking at his mind for attention as he mashed his forehead against the window looking at the woman from the station as she sat across a pompous angry looking man. He would have been concerned if it weren't for the quiet power he could feel radiating from her even at this distance.

Gina stormed into the room, glaring at him disapprovingly like one of those stereotypical angry teachers from young adult movies. He felt a little bit chastised when her face changed instead to bear disappointment and she reminded him that nobody was happy about this, but he might as well get it out of the way. She was only trying to help him, even if she disapproved.

Rick cast another longing glance at the window, and then quietly sat himself down.

That lasted about long enough for Gina to leave. He couldn't even get past the first sentence, his head orienting towards her like a beacon. His spine jolted straight, his heart lit up with an epiphany.

If it really was serendipity, well he could at least try to honor it a little. If it wasn't meant to be, it wasn't meant to be, but what if – just _what if_ – it was?

He folded the paper out of muscle memory that had evidently lasted with him since his high school – well, no, from his college days. He opened the window, took close aim, his face wound up in concentration, and shot the paper plane towards her open window.

It fell pathetically downwards after about a meter. He frowned. Okay, well, that didn't mean anything. He should at least make a realistic effort. Plus it _had_ been a while since he made amazing model airplanes. He was totally the class expert. If only he could tap into the zone again.

So he picked up another paper, made another plane, launched it at her. This one glided smoothly through the air and hit the wall just inches from the window. Inches. On worse days, he would have given up, maybe yanked at his hair, throw a fit, banged his head against the wall – and okay, yes he actually did do that last one. But he was determinedly hopeful. He rolled up his sleeves, and folded more papers, launched more planes. He must have thrown at least two dozen. A concerned citizen yelled up at him not to lose hope – actually, it was probably something obscene, but he couldn't make it out either way.

He reached for another from the stack – but there were no more. He'd run out of paper. Out of chances. Gina had come back inside, yelling at him at being an immature jerk and that the lawyers weren't impressed with his diva tantrums, but he was hearing none of it.

His heart lurched when the woman across the way stood up. She'd left what looked from this distance like a small slip of paper, probably a calling card on the table, turned swiftly and left the room. He gasped, feeling blank and bleak for an infinitesimal instance. His decision already made, he plucked up his jacket from the back of the chair, brushed past an irate Gina not even sparing time for apologies, instead shouting them over his shoulder, and ran for the elevator. It was six floors above him, taking all too long for his urgency. Instead of wasting time hanging around uselessly, he bolted for the emergency exit and almost flew down the seven flights of stairs.

Rick was positively panting for air by the time he exited the building, looking left and right, and just every direction before he finally accepted his fate. She was gone. The woman in the grey coat was gone. Maybe it wasn't serendipity after all. He looked at all the paper planes that littered the street. No doubt someone or many someones were cursing unknowingly at him. He picked one up, fidgeting with it, as he made his way again to the station. There was no use going back upstairs. He would just have to reschedule with Gina after giving her the chance to calm down.

Before long, he'd reached the station. He looked down again at the paper plane in his hand. He was initially going to keep it as a memento. A lesson. An anecdote. But he noticed a little bit of red along the left wing of the plane. He opened it a little to see her kiss.

Feeling a rush of despair, which quickly turned into frustration and anger, he closed it back up, pinched the plane tightly, and threw it unseeingly with all his might. The plane made it's way through the small gap left by the closing doors of the train in front of him. Of course it did. Not like it could go through a window he'd actually aimed for.

A sudden rumble of thunder reached his ears, followed soon enough by the pitter-patter of raindrops. He stood at the platform, waiting for his train. Stock still, but for fidgeting with his collar and tie. His anger and frustration had slowly abated, after all, if it wasn't meant to be, it wasn't meant to be.

A few trains passed him without stopping. He waited patiently, staring absently at everyone around him. It was closing time, and unlike the early afternoon, the subway was full of people. They all bypassed him, the lonely figure dressed in the expensive Armani suit.

He felt a sharp poke into the back of his head, and something brushing down his shoulder. He half turned and looked down at his feet. Lying next to his shoe was a paper airplane. Everything was still; everything was silent, as he reached for it. He opened it fully, his palm flattening out the creases, and sure enough there it was. Lying on the bottom third of the paper he recognized, was her kiss.

He turned around suddenly, his heart beating a mile a minute, and there she stood, her eyes wide like she almost didn't know why she was there either. She walked up to him with a careful gait, while he stood stupidly stunned. Once she was close enough, he blinked owlishly at her, finding it difficult to believe his eyes. But he couldn't have made up that look of bemusement, and he couldn't have made up those gorgeous eyes. Just as he was about exercise his ability to speak actual words, she extended her hand towards him.

"Hi, I'm Kate," she said softly before biting her lip in slight uncertainty.

And the rest, as they say, was history. It was a fairy tale - of paper planes and serendipity.

~ _fin_ ~


End file.
